


Grind Stoned

by boomturkey



Series: Weed fics [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friends With Benefits, M/M, MSBY Black Jackals - Freeform, Marijuana, OsaHinaweekend2020, Post-Time Skip, Recreational Drug Use, sex while high
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26943541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boomturkey/pseuds/boomturkey
Summary: Hinata notices Osamu seems a bit stressed, so he offers up some special little candies to help him relax. But that isn't all he does.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Osamu
Series: Weed fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966087
Comments: 40
Kudos: 392





	Grind Stoned

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dzesi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dzesi/gifts), [PaleRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleRose/gifts).



> For Dzesi and Ro. Thank you both for being amazing inspirations and for encouraging me to dive face first into these horny weed fics ✨
> 
> Happy OsaHina weekend everyone!

“You seem kinda stressed, Osamu-san.”

Osamu lifted his head from where he was making his ungrateful brother’s third negitoro onigiri for the night, and looked across the partition at Hinata, orange brows pinched in concern.

The Black Jackals were celebrating an exhibition game win against the Red Falcons, both teams taking over Onigiri Miya after closing. Osamu had spent the better part of two hours throwing together endless batches of onigiri for this group of bottomless pits who also happened to be professional athletes.

He’d foolishly sent his employees home, not wanting to pay out overtime, and afraid he wouldn’t be able to look Sato-san in the face if they went home with his brother tonight. Again. For what Osamu suspected might be the third time? He’d tried talking to Atsumu about it, not that his brother actually listened. They had the same face. It was weird for his twin to sleep with one of his employees. Friggen downright creepy.

So Osamu had been running himself ragged for most of the evening, after an already busy day and now he had opened himself up to dealing with Black Jackals shenanigans. He’d already snapped at Bokuto twice for trying to smuggle alcohol into his liquor license-less establishment. Inunaki kept trying to stack chairs on top of each other, “So these ogres don’t think they’re hot shit.” Slapping Barnes and Thomas on the arm. Or Sakusa’s expression getting progressively more pinched at each new piece of food Osamu tried to feed him, settling for a bowl of umeboshi and green tea, nothing else.

Or the way his shitty brother was holding court in one of the booths, exchanging progressively less probable stories with Gao, apparently trying to one up one another while the rest of their teams looked on. Osamu had kinda hoped Aran would at least try to wrangle the lot of them, only for him and Bokuto to be giggling between themselves over something in the corner. Useless.

Then there was Hinata, the only person in the room who Osamu didn’t find absolutely exhausting at the moment. Hinata had officially joined the Black Jackals two weeks ago, still sunbrowned from his adventures in Brazil — when Osamu had a moment he’d actually ask him about it. For now, Hinata was the only person offering himself up to help Osamu, distributing food as Osamu made it, collecting plates, and even actually honest to god washing them.

Osamu was going to have to remind his shitty brother that he had a new favorite player on the Black Jackals, and it sure as heck wasn’t ‘Sumu.

Osamu gave Hinata a slight quirk of his lips. “‘M fine Shouyou-kun. Thanks fer askin’.” He finished wrapping the nori around Atsumu’s onigiri and lifted the small plate to Hinata. “Ya mind handin’ this to king dipshit over there?”

Hinata beamed, hopping off his stool, scooping up the plate and wandering over to the gaggle of volleyball players, all of them apparently hanging off Atsumu’s words — good god his brother had finally found his people. Awful. He’d never shut up again.

When Hinata reached the group, Atsumu threw up his arms, making grabby hands at the onigiri Hinata was holding. “Now let me tell ya about the coolest damn try-out any of us ever saw.” Atsumu smarmed, gesturing at Hinata like he was a game show prize.

That had been quite the surprise, two weeks ago when Atsumu had walked in with his newest teammate, announcing that Osamu had to give him onigiri on the house — Hinata was a Black Jackal now, so he was basically like family. Hinata gave Osamu a wave, and then promptly turned to Atsumu and said he’d be fine paying, and that Atsumu-san really should probably also pay too.

Pretty much right off the bat Hinata proved himself to be Osamu’s favorite member of the Black Jackals.

It had been weird though. The last time Osamu had seen Hinata had been a good five years ago now, during his last Spring Nationals. He’d been a little less scrawny than the first time Osamu met him the year previous, but apparently a few years, the beach, and the sun had done wonders for one Hinata Shouyou. At some point in the last few years Hinata had gotten hot.

Very hot.

All those gleaming white smiles, sunkissed skin, and the muscle mass on the guy, holy smokes. Just last week Bokuto had been bragging to anyone who’d listen — Osamu — about how much weight Hinata could apparently squat — 120kgs. Which was apparently one and a half Osamu’s according to Bokuto, exuberantly proud of Hinata.

Yeah, Hinata was hot, and could apparently squat one and a half Osamu’s. And sure he was nice as all get out — and the only person in Osamu’s life who shamed Atsumu for mooching, other than himself. But Osamu wouldn’t do shit. He didn’t date his brother's teammates. It’d be weird. Kinda like how it was weird as hell that Sato-san had definitely hooked up with Atsumu at least twice.

Osamu needed to hold onto the moral high ground. He could appreciate Hinata from afar. No biggie.

Osamu turned towards the sink, ready to wash his hands — going over his mental list of orders. Aran and Bokuto should probably be next, some beef would be good, he had some leftovers from a catering gig he did two nights ago that he needed to use. If he added teriyaki sauce that’d keep Gao occupied for a bit and— a glint of tinted glass caught the corner of his eye.

Whirling, Osamu pointed a finger at Bokuto and Aran, both of them looking all too pleased with themselves for pulling out a bottle of really shitty looking sake. “Bokkun! What the heck did I say about alcohol in here?”

Bokuto and Aran jumped, at least looking a bit guilty. “But Myaa-saaaam! It’s not a party if we’re not drinking—”

Osamu placed his hands on his hips, going for stern. “Not in my restaurant. Go drink out in the streets like the hooligans ya are.” He gestured to the door.

“Y’know, ya used to be less of a buzzkill Osamu.” Aran told him as he and Bokuto sulked towards the doorway, crappy sake bottle clutched in his hands.

“And I expect more from ya, so ain’t we all disappointing.” Osamu grumped, reordering his prep list. Aran, Bokuto, and Gao could all wait, the bastards. Not that Gao had done anything. Yet.

He was muttering under his breath about loud, ungrateful volleyball players, when the barstool in front of his workstation scraped against the floor. Osamu blinked, looking up to find Hinata watching him once again. It was really kind of sweet that he seemed so worried about Osamu feeling lonely.

“Toldja I’m fine Shouyou-kun.”

Hinata leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand, squinting at Osamu. “I don’t think that’s true. Want me to kick everyone out?” He paused, tipping his head to the side as an amused smile curled his lips. “After they pay, of course.”

Osamu snorted, leaning forward to match Hinata’s pose. “Of course. Nah, s’okay. I’ll live.”

Hinata’s smile widened into a grin, making Osamu curb the urge to beam back at him. Infectious little bugger. “I dunno Osamu-san, I hear stress isn’t good for your long term health. I hope you can find some time to relax soon.”

It really was very touching for him to be so concerned. Osamu gave Hinata a wink, pushing back into a stand, stretching his shoulders. “Tell ya what Shouyou-kun, I promise to smoke a bowl on my next day off. So ya can lay off with the worry now.”

He flipped his towel over his shoulder, ready to put together another onigiri, frowning thoughtfully. Though he’d never gotten around to finding a new weed guy. His old one was a former employee who recently moved to Hokkaido for school. Maybe he could message Taki-kun and see if he knew of anyone willing to sell to him in Osaka? He must—

“Smoke a bowl?”

Osamu watched Hinata’s brow scrunch in confusion. “Yeah, though it’s too bad. Maybe it’ll have to wait. I don’t have anyone to buy off of right now.” Osamu shrugged, like c’est la vie.

Hinata tipped his head to the side, looking like a charming little puppy dog. “But what’s ‘smoke a bowl?’”

Osamu snorted, shaking his head. Heck, Shouyou-kun may have grown up and gotten hot, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still that same goofy kid at heart. “You know, like takin’ a bong rip? Dope? Ganja? Grass?” Each new word seemed to just confuse Hinata further.

“Smokin’ marijuana, ya know?” Osamu tried, kinda wanting to laugh at what an innocent little normie Hinata was.

Hinata’s eyes widened with understanding. “Oh! You mean machonha!” He beamed, flapping a hand. “Or weed, I guess. Yeah. Okay. Makes sense.” Hinata nodded sagely at him.

Osamu did give a baffled laugh at that. What could little Hinata Shouyou possibly know about weed—

“You don’t have a weed guy right now? Want to use mine? He makes killer edibles.” Hinata held up his thumb and forefinger demonstrating their size. “They’re really good little candies.”

Osamu opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. Tilted his head to the side. “Huh.” He finally settled on, not knowing what else to say.

“Huh?”

“Never woulda figured ya for a stoner.” Osamu leaned against the counter, entirely forgetting his intended prep as he crossed his arms to watch Hinata. He didn’t look like he was lying or putting on a front. Just his usual earnest self.

Hinata waved a hand in the air. “I wouldn’t say I’m a stoner.” He said airly, “So you want some?”

Osamu pursed his lips. “Whaddya want for ‘em?” Colour him intrigued.

Hinata blinked, leaning back in his chair. As if the thought of making Osamu pay had never occurred to him. “Oh! Uhm,” Hinata lifted a hand to his chin, drumming his fingers. “How about you teach me how to make onigiri?”

Osamu tipped his head to the side. “Oh? Tryna steal my business Shouyou-kun? Gonna start makin’ onigiri for the team so they don’t come around no more?” Osamu had been seeing Atsumu two evenings less a week since Hinata joined the Black Jackals — apparently Hinata was a pretty good cook and Atsumu just didn’t _feel_ like venturing across the city to get a free meal.

“Nah, I wanna make some for me.” Hinata crossed his arms, leaning forward on the counter, smile a little crooked, looking up at Osamu through his very pretty lashes.

It was on the tip of his tongue to say something about not wanting to teach Hinata his secrets, if that meant he’d see Hinata less — but Osamu does not shit where Atsumu eats. It’d be weird. They had the same face. No flirting. So instead he said, “Sure, why not. How’s Monday sound?”

\--

“So how exactly do ya not eat more than ya should of those things?” Osamu asked, as Hinata courteously stowed his little tupperware full of edible gummies in Onigiri Miya’s storeroom fridge. They were super friggen tasty. Maybe if Osamu asked real nice, Hinata would give up the recipe to him? Strawberry candy had never been better, and they weren’t skunky at all. Not like the cookies he’d tried making once — they tasted musty enough that Osamu settled on smoking for the rest of his life. He hadn’t thought edibles were for him, until now.

Hinata shrugged, wiping his hands on his provided Onigiri Miya apron. “I dunno, I put them away and just don’t.”

On Monday’s Onigiri Miya was only open for lunch, so Osamu figured this evening was as good a time as any to have Hinata over for his lesson. It was Hinata’s idea for them to get stoned while Osamu taught him, despite whatever token protests Osamu had put up.

“Yer not worried ya won’t remember stuff for next time?”

Hinata popped the candy in his mouth, waving dismissively. “It’s onigiri. Not rocket surgery.”

Osamu snorted. Cheeky shit.

So Osamu started teaching him Onigiri basics — which Hinata already effectively had, he really was a pretty good little cook. But Osamu did give him some tips on prepping his rice. And some tricks about forming perfect triangles. After half an hour, Hinata was squinting down at his slightly messy row of rice balls, contrasted beautifully by Osamu’s perfectly formed onigiri.

“How come mine are so ugly?”

“Must not be tryin’ very hard.” Osamu said blandly, wiping his hands off on his towel.

Hinata made an indignant sound in the back of his throat, elbowing Osamu in his side. “I’m trying plenty hard.” He grabbed Osamu’s wrist, tugging it towards the warming container of rice. Osamu felt a little thrill at the touch — the weed was definitely starting to hit — and found himself smiling.

“Do it again, this time I’m going to get a close up while you do it.” Hinata leaned forward, bent at the waist, nose inches away from Osamu’s hands.

Osamu gave a breathy little laugh, trying to use his forearm to block Hinata’s view. “Shouyou-kun, yer breathin’ on my onigiris. That’s a health code violation.” Hinata kept ducking his head around anyways, trying to get the best sight line. They were both giggling now, as Osamu tried to keep the onigiri away from Hinata, while Hinata tried to follow it with his nose.

They probably looked ridiculous.

Osamu was having a great time.

When Osamu finally managed to finish the onigiri, he set it down next to the other one’s he’d prepared while sober and found himself wrinkling his nose. Hinata was covering his mouth as he snickered at the sight of Osamu’s lumpy, malformed onigiri — the ugliest he’d made in years, looking more like something Hinata had made, than anything his seasoned hands usually put together.

Osamu felt his shoulders shaking. The sight was pretty hilarious. “‘S not funny.” He said tremulously. Hinata had tears in his eyes, he was laughing so hard, looking up at Osamu, practically glittering. “Don’t laugh. This is yer fault.” Osamu let out one loud gasping laugh, before he managed to bite his lip again.

Hinata giggled in response, shaking his head, his nose wrinkling cutely.

“No see, ya breathed on it and ya infected it with ugly Shouyou-kun onigiri-itis.” Osamu felt his own eyes tearing up as he started giggling too, reaching a hand forward to pat his ugly little rice ball. “The case is terminal.”

“Shouyou-kun onigiri-itis?” Hinata repeated through snorts.

Osamu gestured at Hinata’s frankly hideous onigiri. “See, lookit ‘em. Ugly little rice babies—” they both looked at each other wide eyed for half a second before both of them were doubling over with laughter. Rice babies! Rice babies! His brain kept shouting at him. It was the single funniest thought he’d ever had. Little baby rice grains going off to daycare while their parents went to work. School aged little nigiri. Onigiri teens. If you put smoked fish in them does that imply they’re making bad decisions?

“S-Shouyou-kun—” Osamu wheezed, trying to catch his breath as they both kept giggling. Hinata looked up at him, shoulders shaking, tears streaming down his face as he tried to get ahold of himself. He was faring about as well as Osamu.

“If ya put s-s-smoked fish in an onigiri, does that make it—” He wheezed, grabbing onto the counter to keep himself upright. “D-does that mean it’s makin’ bad decisions?”

Hinata gave a high pitched hissing laugh, doubling over once more, succumbing to his giggles. “Osamu-san, that doesn’t make sense.”

Osamu tried to press a hand to his mouth. “Shh, shh, it does just think about it.”

Hinata shook his head, partly because he disagreed, and partly to evidently dodge Osamu’s hand. “No it doesn’t— Osamu-san what are you—”

Switching tracks entirely, Osamu wondered what Hinata’s ugly little onigiri babies tasted like. Did they taste like failures? Or should he not judge a book by it’s cover? He plucked up one of the ugly onigiri babies, dimly aware of Hinata’s outraged gasp and stuffed the whole misshapen thing into his mouth, nearly choking on loose grains of rice.

But then the taste hit him. Osamu had never experienced something so utterly orgasmic. He made a sound probably, because Hinata went from outraged to very still and very interested as Osamu started chewing, tipping his head back and fluttering his eyes closed as he tasted. God he loved food. God he loved the munchies. Best thing ever.

After swallowing, Osamu nodded his head thoughtfully. “Ya make ugly babies, but they sure taste good.” He was reaching for another one, when Hinata’s hand shot out for his head. He ducked too slow. Next thing he knew, he was staring down at a very smug looking Hinata, wearing his damn hat. “Hey—”

Hinata pursed his lips, brow going smooth. “Y’know, I oughta try some of yer ugly little onigiri babies, just ta be sure.” Was that Kansai-ben? Was Hinata imitating him? Was he in the middle of stealing Osamu’s decidedly **not** ugly little onigiri babies. He only made the best babies— the thought had him gasping another laugh, tipping his head back, entirely forgetting he was supposed to be blocking his onigiri from Hinata’s clutches.

“Oi!” But it was too late, Hinata had swiped one of his perfectly assembled babies, stuffing it into his mouth in one comically large bite. Not even savouring it.

Hinata held up a finger, indicating Osamu should wait. After a second he swallowed, looked Osamu in the eye, and then tipped his head back and made the lewdest, most pornographic throat sound Osamu had ever heard. Osamu gaped. Hinata grinned.

“That’s whatcha sound like, ‘Samu-san.” Hinata gave him a cheeky wink. Something about the hat, the wink, the brightness in his eyes, and the flush on Hinata’s cheeks was stirring something in Osamu. Probably the flirty co-opting of his accent too. Damn. That grain of rice on the corner of Hinata’s mouth was certainly doing something too.

Before he could think better of it — and really who needed thinking right now, Osamu lifted a hand and brushed his thumb at the corner of Hinata’s mouth, wiping at the grain of rice. Reflexively, Hinata’s tongue darted out, scorching a wet spot onto the tip of Osamu’s thumb.

And then what does his dumbass stoned self do? He took his thumb back and sucked it into his mouth, keeping eye contact with Hinata the whole damn time. Hinata’s eyes were blazing, staring at his mouth, lips parted like he wanted to be where Osamu’s thumb was. Osamu wondered if he'd taste his onigiri on Hinata’s tongue. The thought alone is sending liquid lightning through his veins. Shit—

“Whatcha gonna do t’get yer hat back Osamu-san?” Hinata tilts his chin up, pupils blown wide, lazy grin daring Osamu to have a taste. Who was he to say no?

Osamu stepped forward, crowding Hinata up against the counter. He kinda wanted to watch Hinata eat his onigiri. Something about it was making him think that’s like, half a step away from having Hinata’s mouth on his cock, so why the hell not?

Without tearing his eyes away, Osamu reached to grab an onigiri, lifting it to Hinata’s mouth. Watched him open wide as Osamu used his thumb to nudge the onigiri all the way in. Hinata’s cheeks puffed out cutely as he chewed, making a pleased humming sound, staring Osamu straight in the eye the entire fucking time.

Yeah, Hinata got super hot.

Hinata slid his hand up Osamu’s shoulders, smile all lazy and tilted and Osamu wondered if Hinata was going to reel him in for a kiss, ‘cause he’d sure as hell be down for it. Instead Hinata pressed, using Osamu’s shoulders as leverage to lift himself up onto the counter, bracketing Osamu’s hips with his knees. Oh?

Osamu has the very vague cloudy thought that perhaps this isn’t a good idea — something about health code violations. But then Hinata’s ankles looped around the back of his thighs, reeling him until — Oooooh. Yes, good. Hinata’s new height on the counter had their hips perfectly aligned and pressing up flush against him, meant that Osamu got to bask in the warmth of Hinata Shouyou from chest to the press of the mutually growing tents in their pants.

Hinata Shouyou was a motherfucking genius.

He certainly seemed to think so, giving Osamu that lazy smile. “This okay?” All bedroom eyes, tilting his face up, ready for Osamu’s kiss.

Osamu didn’t hesitate, feeling his own lips pull into a smile at the feeling of Hinata pressed up against him. Like a kotatsu for the front of him — oh fuck, why hadn’t Osamu ever had sex under a kotatsu before? That would be freaking amazing— A finger poked his cheek, drawing Osamu’s attention outward. Right, right. He could get busy _now_.

“Hmm?”

Hinata’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Is this okay, or do you want to stop?”

Osamu leaned in, suddenly remembering his earlier thoughts about tasting his onigiri on Hinata’s tongue. Hell yeah. “Nah, this feels amazin’.” He stopped a hair's breadth away from Hinata’s lips, smelling kombu and rice as Hinata’s breath fanned over his face. “‘Sides, I really wanna kiss ya.”

“Cool.”

Osamu isn’t sure who leaned in first, but it’s like an explosion of sensation went off from impact points everywhere Hinata touched. The feel of his fingers carding through Osamu’s hair, breath and tongue and lips burning Osamu’s blood, the grip of his own hand at Hinata’s hips. Chest to chest, heaving together. Osamu briefly imagined them breathing as one, like a set of lungs, attached, working together. In out, in out—

And then Hinata grinded forward and it’s like a low level radiant static that had been playing the background, suddenly increased in intensity by a factor of a million. The drag of Hinata’s length against his own, cotton sweatpants dragging at the denim of Osamu’s jeans. Osamu took a moment, breathing heavy. He needed a moment, or he was gonna cum in his pants, jesus fuck.

“Good.”

Osamu blinked, feeling all foggy. “Wha?” Hinata’s eyes were like warm gingerbread, fresh from the oven, all molten and gooey. It’d be fuckin’ weird to lick them, right?

“I want you to come in your pants for me.” Hinata murmured against his lips, nudging forward and slicking his tongue over the seam of Osamu’s mouth. Oh, so Osamu said that outloud, had he?

Thoughts of health code violations, gross sticky pants, trying to remember if he locked the door, the fact that he had the same face as his brother which probably meant something weird about this whole arrangement — suddenly vanished as Hinata worked his way into Osamu’s mouth, tongue tapping at his teeth. The salt and tang from onigiri tasted even better in Hinata’s mouth than a fresh one did, shit, fuck—

“Betcha I can getcha there first, Shouyou-kun.” Osamu slurred hotly into Hinata’s ear, feeling him shiver against him making the hairs on the back of Osamu’s neck stand on end. Like sympathy shivers. Hadn’t Suna said something about mirror neurons and—

Hinata lifted his head, gingerbread eyes now burning with challenge. “Bring it.” And then he yanked Osamu down for another kiss, rolling his hips forward in the same motion.

Osamu might have yelled it felt so good, muffled by Hinata’s mouth on his. The heat of challenge in Hinata’s eyes spurring Osamu on — sex had never been a battle field for him, but he found he kinda liked it. They were dry humping and making out all sloppy and slick like a pair of teenagers and Osamu doesn’t think he’s ever had more fun.

Hands clamped down on Hinata’s hips, adjusting him just so, reveling in the rock of Hinata’s hips against his own, the flex of muscle under his fingers, hot soft tongue swiping at his and— Hinata lifted a hand, fingers gliding over his chest, raking sensation and heat. Osamu liked it. It felt so good and maybe he should—

A thundercrack of fireworks and pure bliss short circuited his brain for half a second. Osamu definitely shouted. Maybe swore. He certainly stopped kissing Hinata, even as his hips kept juddering and twitching, staring down into slightly glazed, but very pleased brown eyes.

“Didja just tweak my nipple?” Osamu panted, rocking his hips, not quite sure what emotion he was feeling. Indignant maybe, but he really really really wanted **more**. Like a fuckin’ too spicy noodle dish. Hurt so good, makin’ him hot all over.

Hinata’s smile was impish, giving Osamu’s nipple another tweak, snow plowing him with another intense bout of sensation. “Yup.”

Osamu tightened his grip on Hinata’s hips, tugging him closer, trying to fuse them into one big blob of sensation. “Cool, do it again.” Osamu swallowed up Hinata’s grin, working himself double time, lost in the sensation and smell of Hinata. Fingers tugged at his hair, while the other tigged and tweaked and tickled Osamu’s nipple, hips rolling and grinding and twisting against his.

Osamu felt the build of heat in his stomach spread to his spine, creeping up almost in slow motion as it reached for his brain. The inferno working it’s way up his nerve endings was almost too much, his tongue getting sloppy in Hinata’s mouth as the fingers teasing him pinched and then twisted and Osamu utterly lost it, his vision whiting out.

When he came to, foggy coherent thought coming back to him in fits and spurts — ragged breaths against his neck, fingers clenched in his t-shirt, his forehead pressed into a broad shoulder. Breathing as one. Lifting his head, feeling kind of lightheaded, Osamu felt Hinata’s hair drag across his neck as he ragdolled backwards, almost flopping onto the glass partition behind him. Osamu gripped his shoulders as they both came down, their breathing evening out slowly.

“Fuck.” He managed to say finally after what felt like an enjoyable eternity of watching Hinata’s flushed face try and breathe.

Hinata rolled his head up, hat askew, eyes all sleepy and satiated now. “Mhmm.”

And then Hinata lifted a hand, reaching a finger down to poke at Osamu’s groin. Hinata’s crooked little amused smile was really quite nice. Hinata swiped a finger against the denim, sending a thunderbolt of sensation through Osamu, making his eyelashes flutter. “Nice.”

It was then that Osamu became uncomfortably aware of the wetness in his pants. Flicking his eyes down to the barely there wet spot on Hinata sweats, Osamu snorted a giddy little giggle he had no control over. “We should prolly get cleaned up.”

“Mmm, prolly.” Hinata nodded, looking like he kinda wanted to fall asleep.

“Up and at ‘em, sport.” Osamu said, helping Hinata slide off the counter, grinning at the wrinkled nose Hinata gave him.

They cleaned up, hanging out in their underwear as their pants dried in Onigiri Miya’s little break room at the back of the shop. They were eating the onigiri they made, lounging in the threadbare couch back there while Osamu put on a cooking competition show they could chill out and watch together. It was his go-to anytime he wanted a chill night while stoned. Nothing quite like cooking and food and chilling. It was all his favorite things, just with less movement.

After a few episodes, plenty of fluids, and a delightful amount of onigiri, Osamu found himself sober enough to finally articulate what he needed to.

“Y’know Shouyou-kun this was real fun and all, but I don’t think we should do this again.” It’s not that he didn’t have fun, he hadn’t done something like that since he was seventeen and it felt great. It’s just, there are rules for a reason. Sanity preserving rules. He hoped Hinata’s feelings weren’t going to be hurt—

“Cool, that’s okay. It was super fun though, so thanks for that.” Hinata said brightly, settling back into the couch with his glass of water — looking absolutely carefree and comfortable.

Osamu frowned. This wasn’t usually how it went after one night stands. “Yeah... It’s not that I didn’t have fun—”

“Cool, yeah me too.” Hinata nodded.

“It’s just, I don’t date ‘Sumu’s teammates. Y’see?”

Hinata seemed entirely unbothered. It was kinda freaking Osamu out. “Mmm, makes sense. It’s ‘cause you have the same face, right?”

Osamu squinted. “Yeeeah...” He reached for his own glass, lips pursed. He turned to look at Hinata. “Y’sure this doesn’t bother you?” He’d have figured Hinata was someone who got attached easily. He seemed like prototypical boyfriend material to Osamu.

Hinata snorted. “Why would it?”

Osamu felt his ego twinge just _a little_ bit. “Nah, it’s okay. Cool.”

Hinata nodded, looking at his phone. “Welp, it’s getting awfully late. I should probably bike back to the dorms. I think I’m sober enough now.” He pushed to stand, looking entirely unperturbed.

Osamu rolled to a stand to follow him, handing him his hung up sweats. Hinata tugged them on in the no nonsense fashion of a professional athlete unbothered by his own nudity. “Okay. Cool. Thanks for a fun time, Shouyou-kun?”

Hinata beamed. “Yeah! It was great Osamu-san!” He thumbed over his shoulder towards the kitchen. “Don’t forget about the rest of the gummies. They should keep for a few months if you keep them in your freezer.”

Osamu nodded dumbly, following Hinata to the door. “Let me know if you need any more of them too, I’m happy to provide more.” And then Hinata gave Osamu a wink. “Makeouts optional.”

Osamu made a wonky hum sound in the back of his throat, eyebrows high on his forehead as Hinata walked out the door with one last wave. Osamu watched him hop on his bike and peddle away, not a care in the world. Like Hinata hadn’t just helped Osamu defile his poor kitchen by rocking his world.

Jesus Christ.

Well... That had certainly relaxed Osamu at least. Mission accomplished?


End file.
